Til The Sun Comes Up
by TropicanaLemonadeOnASunnyDay
Summary: Random oneshots of...anything, really. RusAme, AmeRus, whatever you want. Taking suggestions.
1. 01

This is a place for me to put all my PWP oneshots, but they migh end before you actually get any action. (Bwa.) So, here are all of the plotless things that will have no end. Thank you and have a very splendiferous day.

* * *

_01_

Russia pushed his bedroom door open and tugged his scarf loose. Today had been hellish, to say the least.

First off, Belarus had woken him by tearing his doorknob out. Not the best of ways to start the morning.

He realized he had misplaced his pipe. And _no, he did not cry!_ That was for pansies. He, Russia, was _not_ a pansy.

Then, as he was eating breakfast, Lithuania had dropped by to...well, he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. He just sort of mumbled something incoherent and waved him away, still tired. Belarus had crushed his radius this time, and he watched him march by dripping blood out the door to the hospital.

Ukraine had come to visit (_what was it, let's-all-bother-Russia day?_) and they had had a pleasant conversation on nothing much, but his boss kept calling every few minutes until he realized he had forgotten to fax over a very important document the day before and had to cut that short.

Before he even stepped in the door, Belarus had crept up behind him and started chanting "_marriage...marriage..._" over and over, causing him to shriek, lock the door, and realize he had dropped his vodka bottle on said very important document. He had spent the next twenty minutes unearthing a copy and filling it out again.

Finally, after forgetting to eat lunch and finishing every last fucking form that they thought he might want to waste his time on, he threw something together for dinner and decided to lock himself in his bedroom until Belarus went home.

All in all, not very pretty. He rubbed the dark circles under his eyes and sighed softly. He had not even had time to talk to his-

He blinked.

Blinked again.

America was lying handcuffed in his bed. He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice. America looked up.

Russia stepped closer. "Why are you in my bed and handcuffed?"

He scowled and burned holed in the floor with his glare. "Fuck...might as well get this over with...um...happy birthday?"

His birthday. Of course. He had forgotten.

Kicking his boots off, he crawled up onto the bed. "Mm...I think I'll like my present very much...I'll have a very happy birthday, da?"

* * *

Uh, like I said, no continuation, just random oneshots of any pairing that strikes my fancy but that has no real plot (you lie, that one actually could have been good), so next chapter will be another random oneshot.


	2. 02

To answer someone's review, yeah, this is RusAme, but if I feel the sudden urge to I'll write some GerIta or SuFin, or whatever else strikes my fancy. :) I inteded this to be where I put random things that don't really finish off, but a few actual lemons here and there can't hurt anyone, _oui?_

So now I'll write a oneshot that actually gets somewhere because at least one person asked for it, I think! ^L^ So...this was inspired by what happened at lunch yesterday, when two of my friends and I got candy canes (we had no idea why the lunch room was suddenly supplying hyperactive children like us with sugar, but whatever!) and we were...being perverted...and laughing...and...this is kinda like that...this was seriously how we ate them...

Before we start, some learnings for the gracious audience! (I feel so intelligent now that I know this!)

Shchi is a common Russian soup, although it's less well-known outside of Russia than borscht for some reason, and it's made of cabbage. Its only required ingredients are cabbage and something sour, but you can add meat, carrots or parsley roots, or spicy herbs, and rarely fish or mushrooms.

Stavlenniy myod is a honey-based beverage that resembles Medovukha, which I think is the oldest alcohol in Russia, but stavlenniy myod's a bit stronger. It's typically made with berry juices too, and it's an equivalent to Scandinavian mead.

If America's mumbling is too un-understandable (is that a word? no, it's not.), I'm sorry. And I'm shivering right now _why is that? I'm wearing a sweater! _Br...saving energy means making my house an icebox...and I can't write properly like this...

This episode was brought to you by the letter M (yay!) and Wikipedia's page on Russian cuisine. And now I'm hungry because Russian food looks good, dammit! *headdesk*

This A/N is too long...maybe next chapter I'll just shut up...

* * *

_02_

Russia sat down and pulled out a thermos of shchi from his bag. Lunch was usually uneventful, unlike their meetings, and the room was full of the quiet murmurings of conversations around him. Instead of his usual bottle of vodka, he took a sip from a flask of stavlenniy myod and watched the room with solemn purple eyes.

America walked over and sat next to him. "How nice of you to join me, America." They watched each other for a moment. "You look lonely, Ivan," America observed. Russia shrugged. "It's not that bad."

He sighed. "That's the kind of self-denial that gets people in mental institutions." He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a candy cane. "I have tons of candy canes, now, since it's after Christmas and no one wants them anymore." Carefully peeling off the thin plastic wrapper, he snapped the crooked part off and stuck it in his mouth, awkwardly sucking on it.

Russia wrapped his hands around the thermos and watched him. His tongue swirled around it, rubbing off the red striped that twined around it in a spiral pattern, leaving bright white patches of white in its wake. "Y' wan' one? I've go' tonsh." America tried to mumble around the candy in his mouth and twirled the rest of it between his hands. Russia shook his head and returned to his soup hurriedly, stirring the bits of carrot and cabbage around and trying to focus on the bits of spices and herbs floating in the warm liquid.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Alfred." To his dismay, America pulled the candy cane out of his mouth. Its bone-white surface glistened with saliva as he licked it again and set it on a napkin. "Okay, _mom_." Smiling a little, he repeated. "Do you want one, then?" He picked it up again and started to suck on it.

"Hm. Maybe..." He set down his food and leaned down to kiss him and pull the candy from his mouth. It didn't really taste minty at all anymore, but it was sort of sweet and sugary, and very sticky. America stuck his tongue out and stole it back. "If you wan'ed one, you coulda jusht ashked." With a loud cracking sound, he bit down in it and snapped it in half, crushing it into a sort of gummy mash of sugar.

He took another gulp of his alcohol and tried to think of anything else. _Think about Belarus chasing you with her knife...no, that's way too scary!_ He shuddered a bit at the thought. America looked at him with concern. "Are you okay?" He nodded. "Thinking about Belarus." America nodded with a look of understanding. He looked down at the American sitting beside him and cursed himself mentally almost immediately. America had picked up the rest of the candy cane and was now sucking on it thoughtfully.

"P-please stop that, America..." He willed himself to stare at his hands twisting and gripping his coat. America only cocked his head to the side and smirked. "Really? Stop what?" He held the candy cane between two fingers and let the other grip his hand. "Hm...I don't think you want me to..."

He stood up suddenly and pulled America by his hand out the room, ignoring the pointed stares aimed at them as he slammed a door open, slid inside, and pulled the candy from his mouth, replacing it with his tongue.

"Hah...you really have to stop doing that..." He panted, violet eyes wide and adjusting to the gloom slowly. America only grinned more and snatched the candy back and licked it tantalizingly. "It's fun to tease you." He shifted closer and pressed himself against him, shaking with suppressed laughter. "You're too easy to provoke sometimes." He pushed his scarf back and pushed his coat off his shoulders. "Too easy to mess with," he breathed over his neck, watching him shiver with an amused expression.

"Just shut up." Russia tossed his jacket to the floor and shoved him to floor, kicking his boots off and kneeling over him, hands by his head. Undressing them both quickly, he pressed kisses down his neck and sighed as one of his hands came up to tangle in his hair and caress his neck. America reached down to grasp his erection gently. He moaned appreciatively.

"You...you know we _do_ have a meeting, Russia...in maybe ten minutes or so...I don't really care if it hurts." He smiled at his not-so-subtle demand to _hurry the fuck up now!_

"...As you wish." He shuffled backwards and carefully thrust in, rocking back and forth gently. All semblances of coherent thought ceased and desisted. "A-Alfred..." America pushed himself up so he was in a sitting position against the wall and nodded, expression still looking pained as he shifted with him. "Go...faster, dammit! I can handle it!" _Masochist._ He thought briefly, before complying.

..._time lapse_...

America walked into the meeting room holding Russia's hand. Amazingly, they were early. They took their places at the table and waited for the rest of the world to show up.

France raised an eyebrow as walked in, but winked. "What are you going to say, that you were sitting here for the past fifteen minutes discussing world issues?"

Russia shrugged. "That works."

America smiled. "Anything works."

* * *

Well...there you go...a lemon...I cheated at the end...but, it's more lemony than the last one, right?

Here: let's make a deal, readers. This was meant to be a place to put dead-ended ideas I came up with, not full ones. Starting now, for every three times I cut something off, I'll finish one.

Oh, and suggestions are my lifeblood. Don't expect me to be that creative. Seriously, if you want something, ask.


	3. 03

Don't ask how. I know I should be working on whatever else I started, but I can't get this out of my head! Damn plotbunnies...they're not even good stories...

Um...femerica. And drunk Ivan remembers nothing. Yeah.

* * *

_03_

Russia woke up slowly, warm and comfortable and altogether too unwilling to get up. And his head was pounding...He opened his eyes slowly.

Strange, that. He wasn't in his house...He sat up and looked around.

A very naked and very content looking sleeping America had her arms wrapped around his waist, pressed against him. With a jolt, he realized he was naked as well. He vaguely remembered that they had gone out drinking the night before; that explained the hangover. He started to hyperventilate. Did they...?

America blinked and sat up. He hurriedly threw a blanket at her. "What...happened?" He managed to stutter out.

She sighed impatiently. "You were really that drunk, weren't you? Don't remember a thing?" He nodded.

"Fine." She said. "It went something like this..."

They stumbled out of the bar still hiccuping and laughing.

"You're completely drunk this time!" She giggled and poked his side. "You should stay at my place." He nodded and leaned a bit more heavily on her arm that was holding him up. After stumbling and tripping over their own feet, they somehow managed to make it to America's house. She unlocked the door and let them in.

Russia looked around the room. It was tastefully decorated, he supposed, but that wasn't really the point. Swaying unsteadily in his feet, he spun around and kissed America solidly on the lips.

She let out a little gasp of surprise before kissing back passionately. "I-Ivan!" She panted, and pulled him back down by his scarf, groping behind her and blindly leading him down the hall. Slamming the door open with a nasty cracking sound that the last rational part of his hazy mind registered dimly, America backed up, still clutching the front of his coat, until her knees hit the edge of the bed and she fell back, pulling him on top of her.

Blue eyes dark with lust, she pulled his scarf off as he shrugged off his coat and began to press open-mouthed kisses down his neck, watching him shiver at her touch. Somehow managing to undress them both, America reached out one hand to pull his hips closer to hers. He crouched over her, spreading her hips wider and thrusting in, moaning wantonly. She rocked back and forth with him, shrieking once, panting and clutching at his shoulder as he thrust in once again and let out a groan as he finished.

He came to lay at her side, pulling her into an embrace and sighing tiredly. He thought he heard her whisper, "Я люблю Вас," but his mind shut down then and there, and he drifted into sleep.

He turned bright red. "D-di you have to be so descriptive?" He squirmed awkwardly, and America only smiled at this. "But I think you liked it." She crawled onto his lap and gave him a slow, sweet kiss.

"I think I did."

* * *

Gr. I promised that I wouldn't keep doing this. And I think this is gonna be for all my RusAme now, only. So there.


	4. 04

Inspired by "For Your Entertainment" and a bit by "Fever" by Adam Lambert (yeah, I was frickin' listening to Adam Lambert while I wrote this, bitches.) and more of my favorite pairing, Ame/Rus or Rus/Ame. I mean, you know America's strong enough. And I really wanted to see Russia play with him and then America would snap and America would totally top! Because that's my headcanon that Russia looks tall and scary but he really is kinda submissive.

This takes place...well, I'm not terribly sure. Let's say...um...America's house! Yes! Perfect! HAHAHAH, SEE, I COME UP WITH GOOD IDEAS SOMETIMES.

Anyway...no historical relevance, just good ole...yeah...let's just get on with it.

I'm so bad at keeping promises. Where is the cut-off-ness? Gah...next nine chapters will all be torture for you. It's just because I had to clean out Document Manager, t-that's why! Don't look at me in that tone of voice!

* * *

_04_

He smiled coyly, hiding the grin behind his scarf and a bottle of vodka. Downing at least half of it in one go, he watched the room swarm dizzily a bit before it settled down again. The alcohol was giving his mind a pleasant buzzing sensation. He swayed a little from side to side to the music, the thumping beat that struck his ears heavily and the electronic patter of some fast melody washing through quickly before being replaced with a new one.

Walkig a bit unsteadily to a rather inebriated America, who was standing against the wall, he poked his shoulder and said (or shouted) over the music, "This is fun, da? You should dance!" He rocked back and forth, watching his reaction carefully. Taunting his former enemy was a good way to pass time.

Said nation only glared drunkenly at him and took another sip of whatever he was drinking. It was brightly colored (perhaps his penchant for colored food extended to drinking) and looked like it was rather strong, as his unstable stance could vouch for. "Shut the hell up, Ivan."

"Nyet, I don't think I will, _dearest _America. This is fun~" He swilled the vodka around and leaned against him, watching him closely.

Faster than he could see, America was standing in front of him, pinning his wrists in a grip painfully hard. "Are you so sure, _dearest_ Russia?" He leaned forward and smashed his lips onto his, worming his tongue into his mouth. His eyes widened, and he pushed against him.

Even if you compared Russia's formidable strength, giving his all, to America, barely trying, it was still like pushing against a brick wall. And oh, America was trying.

He drew back to gasp for air, dark eyes meeting his, chests flush. Russia could feel vague stirrings of heat, warm skin against warm skin, and America took a step closer if that was even possible to do-

All trains of thought crashed and burned the tracks they were on. America tilted forward, making the taller man moan and lean torwards him as well. The last of his higher thought processes screamed at him to _stopitstopitstopit what are you doing you're kissing America stopit!_

The struggling thoughts dissipated under this attention. Before could open his eyes, America was pulling him down the hall, still barely illuminated with the colored lights from the other room, and being shoved through a door onto a bed. America tore his scarf off, tossing it to the side, as he did with the coat he wore - _why was he wearing a coat here of all places? _- the pants - _they were gone very quickly _- and shoes hitting the carpet with a dull thunk.

Eyes unobscured by glasses watched him writhe as he sucked harshly on his neck, biting and licking the sensitive skin there. "You should have known what you were getting into," he rasped gutturally into his ear as he touched the pale skin beneath him. "You should have known." He could only nod as he removed his clothes, and he couldn't help but watch the tan skin, supple under his hands, slowly, inch by inch be exposed to him.

America shuffled down lower, licking his erection teasingly, painfully slowly, and he groaned. Finally taking it into his mouth, America smiled as he tried to inch forward, holding his hips back effortlessly. He sucked and gently grazed the tip with his teeth, making Russia bite back a scream.

America pulled back. "I want to hear you," he taunted in a sing-song voice, sitting back on his heels and waiting until he let out a moan of annoyance. "Please, A-Alfred..." He tilted his head back down and caressed his chest as he licked and kissed. America mumbled something inaudible and continued his ministrations.

Russia lifted his hips, finally releasing with a scream and collapsing back onto the bed. "You should have known," a voice remined him, breathing gently into his ear. He smiled faintly. "I don't think I minded."

* * *

0.o That was...terrible...ugh...my brain, is fried...


	5. 05

Now, time for some more cut-off torture~ BWAHAHAHAHAH-ACK-AHEHEH-*wheezes and coughs*

* * *

_05_

Russia only smiled smugly as he stood outside the door. "A bet's a bet, America!"

He could almost hear his lover clench his teeth and try not to rip his head off. "I. Hate. You."

Still grinning, he opened the door. "It can't be that bad. You must be exaggerating..." He stopped in the doorway, but America dragged him inside and slammed the door before any innocent bystanders could pass by and scar themselves for life.

America was wearing the costume Elizaveta had dared them to bet on. He vaguely made a mental note to thank her as soon as he could. America was in the process of trying to pull down a too-short black skirt as he tottered on black stilettos, complete with apron, that matched the short-sleeved shirt he wore. There was even a little bow on top of his head.

America grit his teeth. "Fuck you."

Russia stepped closer. "Mm, that does sound like a good idea..." America pushed him away. "And stop staring!" Russia wrapped his arms around him and breathed into his ear, "No, I don't think so. You look lovely, don't you?"

"S-shut up!" He blushed and crossed his arms determinedly. "I swear, you will _pay_ for this. Mark my words."

He only pushed him back into the wall, kissing him. "Whatever makes you happy, любовь."

..._very long time lapse_...

He squeezed his eyes shut, cheeks burning. "Why?" He whimpered. "Why are you making me do this?" America laughed quietly. "Don't you remember the bet? I swore you'd pay for it. And I think I like this very much."

He pulled at his skirt and opened his eyes, thoroughly embarrassed by America's stare. "Where did you even find this?" He shrugged. "Poland helped." Russia frowned. "Of course."

My _God_, he could feel his eyes burn as he looked at himself in the mirror. A pink miniskirt, equally too-small shirt, and a pair of spindly looking high-heels lying expectantly at his feet mocked him.

America wrapped a comforting arm around him. "You know, it's not so bad once you get used to it." He scowled. "Just be quiet."

* * *

Hahah, there! Two cut-off scenes! BWAHAHAHAHAHHHH. *chokes a little at the end* O-ow...


	6. 06

Lalalalalaaaa~ It's 1:51 and I stayed up beta-ing for The Fujoshi and now I'm hyper so I'll wwrite this idea that's been bothering meeee~ Anti-USUK. Femerica, too. A little of "Not Fair," by Lily Allen.

* * *

_06_

"Oh, he treats me with respect. He says he loves me all the time, he calls me 15 times a day, he likes to make sure that I'm fine. You know I've never met a man, who's made me feel quite so secure, he's not like all them other boys. They're all so dumb and immature." She gesticulated violently at the air, clutching her glass of alcohol tightly.

"There's just one thing that's getting in the way, when we go up to bed he's just no good, it's such a shame! I look into his eyes, I want to get to know him, and then he makes this noise, and it's apparent it's all over!" She frowned and took another sip, swaying dangerously now, not realizing the presence beside her.

"It's not fair, and I think he's really mean. He's supposed to care, that he's never made me scream. Oh, it's not fair, and it's really not okay."

Russia smiled widely. "This is a problem, da?" She blinked and might have attempted to say something if she wasn't so drunk. "We should fix it ourselves, da?"

"Mm, that sounds nice..."

* * *

I DON'T KNOW. IT'S TWO IN THE MORNING. BAH, I'M JUST GONNA GO SLEEP NOW.


	7. 07

No relevant comments on this one, aside from the fact that Ivan's last name really should be Braginsky with a y not an i, because Braginski with an i means he's very distantly Polish which I don't think he is. *ramble ramble* Blahhh...Sorry for being gone so long, so here's some valentine's day fluff...veh...I thought the end sucked, but whatever.

* * *

Russia took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Twice, to be sure. He clenched his hands (but he wasn't nervous! Of course he wasn't) and waited.

The door swung open, a beaming America suddenly very close to his face. "Hi, Ivan!" Blushing, he thrusted a bouquet of silvery lavender, deep red, and blue roses at him, mumbling under his breath at a high speed "these are for you!"

America smiled wider (if that was even possible) and took the flowers. He closed his eyes in relief. Something else was placed in his hand, and he looked down to see a bunch of sunflowers tied with a thick white ribbon in his hands.

America grinned again and pulled him into a hug. "Happy Valentine's Day, then." He smiled with him. _Yes, a very happy Valentine's Day indeed._


	8. 08

More valentine's day fluff...veh...FemAmerica, random kinkiness...I'm not even sure anymore...

* * *

As per America's request, they were to do 'normal' couple things...whatever that meant. Acting a few hundred years too young for a few hours was doable. Silly things like going out to a restaurant and making love-filled stares at each other... What time was it, again? He needed more vodka.

America, perky smile in place as usual, wearing a trench coat that she refused to remove and spiky heels, seemed to find the table endlessly engrossing for a minute or so before reverting her gaze to him, blissfully ignoring the stares that made Russia want to bash their heads in for even daring to think that way about his sunflower. Damn their eternal youth and flawlessly glowing features. The irrational though made him laugh a little.

His phone vibrated. Glaring in someone's general direction (really, the pointed looks were just getting annoying), he pulled it out of his pocket and read the new text.

_Hey, Vanya, under this coat I'm not wearing anything~ Just thought ya might wanna know._

He could almost feel the smirk she was giving him as he read it. Just thinking about it, he frowned and blushed uncomfortably...How long were they supposed to be here, anyway? 


	9. 09

Um...I dunno. My muse kinda left, so I wrote something random...Wrote this on my iPod at like, 2AM. Since my iPod has fucked up Internet, I had to use HTML tags to write this...seriously annoying. I don't know how to write a linebreak in HTML so it looks like crap.

**~?{€\!_£%}^|*\¥**

"Ohhh...Vanya..." The blond moaned darkly as he writhed under him, rocking back and forth. He bit his lip.

To just see _his _America scream for him, to hear him whisper sweet nothings and watery 'I love you's made his heart prickle. He was _his_, and the warm glow of knowing this made him smile widely. He felt lightheaded and cold for a moment-

_Plop._

"Dammit." His heart fell out of his chest, landing on America's. Still pulsating sickeningly, it dripped rivulets of crimson down his sides. How disgusting for his heart to just fall out...in the middle of sex, no less...

Blushing and stuttering something that sounded like an apology, he didn't expect America to pick it up gingerly and look at it with almost wonder in his eyes. His blood dripped from his fingers and he lifted one hand to tentatively lick some of it. The hole in his chest where the organ would normally be fluttered slightly as he pressed a bloody kiss to his cheek and cradled his heart in his hands.

Giving him a lopsided grin, America pressed it back into his ribcage, palm spread on his chest as he kissed him again, the taste of his own blood seeping into his mouth. "S-sorry about that..."

"You don't have to be."

**{*{^~€,€?*|¥\¥\\**

What the hell was that... T-T It sucked...

Seriously guys, suggestions? My brain died. If you want anything specifically, tell me.


	10. 10

Shadows Of Our Shadows suggested/requested this, so I wrote it. Um, yeah. *giggles* It was loads of fun~ And don't worry, LockDaisy, your suggestions come next.

(But I love her nickname for me! Sunny-chan! Ain't it cute?)

The whole 'godmorn' line was from 'Norway on Caffeine.' If you haven't seen it, you can look it up on Youtube. It was hi_-la-_rious.

* * *

England smiled. Today was a good day. They had actually managed to get some work done, France had yet to grope him, and it was sunny outside and _godmorn, life is beautiful!_

Skipping slightly, he opened the door to the meeting room, knowing full well he was much too early and had another ten minutes of lunch break. And promptly regretted his decision.

Russia had America bent over the table, half naked and face flushed as he moaned. America was gripping the table painfully hard (he thought he heard something crack) and gasping for air, Nantucket bobbing up and down, his face an expression of ecstasy and pain. "I-Ivan!" England could only stare at them, frozen in shock.

America, his little brother. Being fucked by Russia. Arguably the scariest nation in the world. No, the worst part was that _he was watching and oh god there was no way in hell he was turned on by this._

Sitting up, America finally noticed him standing in the doorway and blanched. "Stop!"

The Slavic nation was unceremoniously shoved on the floor. America began to hyperventilate and pull whatever articles of clothing he could towards himself. "Oh my God England why are you here oh God..." Russia finally noticed him and gave him his trademark smile, starting to chant his _kolkolkol_. "England, I think it'd be best if you just left now."

"R-right." He managed to stutter out, before turning and running down the hall.

Yeah, just an _amazingly_ great day he was having...

!_!_!_!_!_!_!

Hungary whistled cheerily, holding a thick black binder under her arm. She had already gotten footage of Germany and Italy from the first break, and Prussia and her ex-husband had already provided her with lots of fun. Oh yes, this was a very productive day indeed.

She was actually headed to a closet she and Japan had dubbed their meeting place for exchanging videos and planning out new doujinshis. It also happened to be the most frequently _used_ closet, but that was a bonus.

Twisting the doorknob with a flourish, she pulled the door open.

She could have sworn her nose just exploded.

Russia was leaning against one wall, head thrown back, panting heavily and moaning. America was kneeling at his feet, sucking his freakishly large cock, stroking whatever he couldn't take. Torn between watching or getting Japan and filming the rest, she stood stock-still, eyes wide.

America shuffled backwards, blushing heavily. "Um, Hungary..."

"Don't stop." Expression crazed, she pulled out her phone and punched in a speed dial. "Japan. Get here with a camera. _Now._"

Shutting the door just a bit, she smiled. "Go on! Just ignore us!"

"..."

!_!_!_!_!_!_!

Switzerland walked side by side down the hallway with his sister. America had been arguing with Russia _again_, though why he'd taunt him he'd never know. They had been kicked out to 'settle their differences elsewhere,' and hadn't returned. Holding her hand protectively, they rounded a corner.

Russia was pushing the North American nation against the wall, kissing him hungrily and shuddering as America sucked and bit his neck. Their eyes slid closed as they kissed passionately, and snapped open as a bullet shot dangerously close to their faces.

"WHY ARE YOU TWO FORNICATING IN THE HALLS? There are innocent children here-"

America tried to regain his breath. "Calm down, Vash, before you shoot someone and get in trouble again."

"Lili is hardly a child. Most 'children' here are at least seventy years old." Russia supplied helpfully. This was met with a glare.

He turned to his sister. "Lili-"

Lili was busy scrolling through the pictures she had taken on a digital camera (from where, they would never know). "Remind me to never let you see Hungary again."

She smiled innocently and hid the camera again. "As you wish, brother~"

!_!_!_!_!_!_!

Greece walked into the room.

Directing his blank stare at the two nations currently fucking each other, he shrugged. "Whatever." And walked out the door.

"...that was unexpected..."

* * *

Hope you like it, Shadow-chan!~


	11. 11

FFFFFF I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! I was on my figment and then I kept writing oneshots for my other account and I just kinda got distracted. And then I went to China's house. Aru. But on the bright side, I broke my mental block and hopefully from now on writing smut will take less time. -_-;; Seriously, I'm sorry.

* * *

Russia tapped his gloved fingers on the smooth wooden surface of the table, letting the slight twitch of his hand be the only betrayal of his complete and utter _boredom_. Germany and Austria had managed to keep the meeting under control. Italy was for once being quiet (probably a silence bought through promises of pasta later) and Romano was sulking next to him; Spain was being attentive and attempting to stifle his slight sniffles; Greece was...being Greece...the rest of the world was much the same, either in a deathly stupor or concentrating on not coughing loudly and bringing attention to their colds.

How utterly _boring_ these meetings got without complete and total chaos! Even France and England were being quiet. The synchronized _scritch-scritch_ of pens filled the room. America looked bored as usual, sitting across from him and occasionally jotting something down. He shot his brother a look of complete exasperation, which was returned. God, this was just so _boriiinngggg_...

Greece sneezed.

As if this was some kind of cue, Turkey jabbed him in the ribs to get him to wake up and take the tissue being shoved towards his dripping nose. Greece, needless to say, was not happy. There was a small mumbled argument. Germany's eyebrow twitched slightly, but he continued to read off the Powerpoint in a dull monotone.

"Kiku...tell this idiot to...fuck off..."

"Yeah, well he's my friend, you brat! You're even worse than you were as a child!"

"Shut...up..."

Japan looked despondent at his sudden involvement in their spat. "Please, Turkey-kun, Greece-kun, not now." China took this occasion to back up his little brother and scold them, Hong Kong and Taiwan looking on in amusement. Korea twirled his curl idly around his finger. "Really, aniki?"

Spain moaned miserably and blew his nose on the tissue Greece had never taken. "Ah, Romano, I feel terrible..." His former charge glared irritably at him before attempting to comfort him awkwardly. His brother smiled and 've'-d at the affection, and Germany facepalmed. "You know what, everyone just go ahead and talk and waste time! I don't even care anymore!" Massaging his forehead, he stormed out of the room, Italy following him closely.

"Now look what you've all done-" Austria began what promised to be a long and thoroughly ignored reprimanding speech, but Hungary glared at him and made him sit down again. "Don't you think a nice break would be good, Roderich? Come _on_," she wheedled.

"...fine..."

And a few feet down the table, all hell had broken loose. Turkey and Greece were still insulting each other, but now Japan was caught in the middle and was shouting (very politely in the Japanese way where no means yes) at them both. China was running screaming from Korea, who was trying to grope him again. Ever blank expression in place, Norway sighed dramatically and left as well, but he didn't get very far before Denmark was back at his side attempting to get a response from the stony Nordic. England and France, as to be expected, began to fight (over something stupid no doubt).

Russia looked across the table again, only to be met with an empty chair and someone (who?) rolling his eyes (...oh, America's brother, was it Canadia or something?). Something touched his thigh.

Jumping slightly in surprise, he looked around. No, France was not within his three foot groping radius, and Korea only groped non-existant breasts. Everyone else was accounted for...except America...

The hand unbuckled his pants and gently touched him through his boxers. Holding back a gasp, he took a surreptitious look under the table to find two bright blue eyes behind glasses staring back at him.

"_America!_ What do you think you're doing?" He hissed under his breath. The only response he got was a smirk and a firmer grip on Primorsky.

Balling his hands into fists and willing himself to remain silent, Russia stared straight forward as he pulled his underwear lower. Kisses were pressed against his thigh and a tongue stole out to lick the tip of his cock. "America..." The whispered warning went unheeded.

"Sh...be quiet." A hand began to stroke his cock, and he bit his lip. No one had seemed to notice his expression, and what's-his-face had probably wandered off to go talk to Prussia (when the ex-nation had snuck in he didn't know).

The hand sped up, somehow still gentle, and he steeled himself to remain still. Heat was pooling in his cheeks and _somewhere else_ and it was so horrifyingly embarrassing and obvious that he was almost glad he could not even hear his own thoughts over the din that was the meeting room. "_Fuck_," he hissed under his breath.

Fingernails gently dug into the soft flesh of his thigh in retaliation. He aimed a half-hearted kick at America, who only chuckled darkly and gripped his cock harder.

To make things worse, he missed.

Relenting, America leaned forward just a little, taking the tip of his erection into his mouth, and he buried his face in his scarf, trying to stifle a soft moan. Hands snaked down of their own accord to grip his ash blond hair and he inched forward in his chair. Shooting surreptitious glances around the room, he sighed in relief. No one was looking at him strangely yet. That was good-

Any and all thoughts were interrupted by his half-muffled, strangled cry as the younger blond leaned forward and his mouth slid impossibly far down. Tongue curling around his length as he sucked, he bit down gently and smiled as the Slavic nation tried desperately not to make any noises. Heat seemed to pool lower and lower, twisting and writhing in his stomach and making it nearly impossible to remain silent; a stream of muffled curses was issued from his mouth as he came violently.

Noticing the few awkward stares he was already on the receiving end of, he pulled America out from under the table and dragged him out of the room, cursing and blushing as the American smirked self-satisfiedly. Somehow stumbling into a bathroom, he shoved him into the tiled wall and kissed him, yanking painfully on his hair. "Fuck you."

America only laughed. "I'd love to."

"And then Ivan-" the albino beside him flinched, "like, just pulled Al out from under the table and just up and left. Al is such an idiot sometimes, I mean, what the hell kind of plan is that? He-"

The two pushed the bathroom door open only to stand and stare in shock and then hastily slam the door shut again. Canada's eyes were wide and he curled up into a little ball, rocking back and forth, chanting a mantra of "I did not just see my brother and Russia fucking, I did not just see my brother and Russia fucking-"

Prussia only rolled his eyes. "After a while, you kind of just get used to it. Russia likes to fuck at random times."

"...WHAT?"

* * *

Gah, that was probably terrible...I wrote the first half of the chapter like a month ago and now that I came back to it sounds so stuuupiiiid...but I hope the end was funny enough to make up for it? I have two more chapters lined up and I'll get those out maybe even today, and I'm really really sorry guys! -_-;; Feel free to shoot me. Or slap me with lettuce. You know. The usual.


	12. 12

See, I keep my promises! Two chapters in a day, in a freakin' hour. Happy? I already have another idea and it's solidifying in my brain (lol sounds like jello whaaat?)...expect that sometimes before the week ends...

* * *

There was something oddly appealing about seeing America dash about his kitchen in a frilly apron ("Lichtenstein gave it to me for Christmas"). Holding a carton full of eggs carefully, he pushed the refrigerator door closed with his back and set down the foam container before hurrying off to get a bowl.

"Solnyshko, remind me what we are making again?"

"Meringue." The way he made the rare few phrases he tossed out terse and nervous while he was concentrates as opposed to his normal bubbly composure made this even more attractive. "Then allow me to assist you." He set down the bowl in his hands and pulled over another smaller one. "We must separate the yolks from the whites, da?"

"'Da,' yes, whatever!" The way he suppressed his almost manic energy was just adorable.

Taking one of the smooth-shelled oblong eggs, America cracked one on the side of the bowl and carefully held the halves over the bowl, slipping the yolk from shell to shell until the clear liquid had all drained away and he dumped the slimy yellow mass into the smaller bowl.

"Think you can do that, big guy?" The blatant sarcasm was hilarious, so he returned it with an innocent grin and a "da" sweeter than the superfine sugar on the counter next to them.

They continued on in this fashion until America had the misfortune to drop a fragment of egg into the bowl. Russia reached to get it and was promptly swatted away. "Don't use your fingers, the oil will ruin it!" The intense concentration in his gaze as he fished out the shard with another egg shell demanded that it not be broken.

After finally emptying each egg of its more translucent contents, America wiped his hands off and ran one of them through his hair. "And now we wait for half an hour."

"Hm." He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and wrapped an arm around his waist.

The working mood had been broken and he was already talking a mile a minute. "...And Mattie and Gilbert are coming, so if Arthur starts yelling at Francis again at least we'll have their help, so it won't end up like last year-"

"Alfred," he purred lowly in his ear, "if we have an entire thirty minutes at our disposal, why not put them to good use?"

America checked the clock. "Yeah, it's more like twenty-eight minutes now."

Growling, he pulled him closer and smashed their mouths together. Truth be told, it could have gone a lot more gracefully, but Russia couldn't really bring himself to care. America moaned and gripped the counter behind him tightly as he effectively had him bent over the table. "Vanya...Mm, someone's horny today."

"Watching you flit around the kitchen wearing an apron more befitting an obedient housewife does not assist matters."

"Bet you'd love it if the apron was all I was wearing, wouldn't you?"

"Make it nothing and I would enjoy it even more."

Clear laughter still ringing in Russia's ears, America untied the apron and slipped it over his head, setting it down on the counter along with Texas and his scarf. He caressed his neck gently, other hand tangling through his platinum blond hair.

He pulled the knot of the apron apart tossed it onto the counter, a shirt soon joining it. Calloused hands gently loosened his scarf until it slid off of his shoulders of its own accord, and then slid under his shirt to pull it over his head. America kicked off his pants impatiently and pulled his down. Skin slick with sweat, America pulled him up for another kiss. "Ah...please, Vanya, more."

Not needing to be told twice, he dipped three fingers in the egg whites and traced a sticky trail down his neck and torso, nipping and licking every now and then, ending up at his entrance. Scooping up just a bit more of the egg whites, he wormed a finger in.

If the irritated cant of his hips was anything to go by, America was just a little more than impatient.

Second finger scissoring and squirming just as much as the American now sitting up and reaching to cup Primorsky in his hands, Russia leaned up to distract him from the third with another deep kiss.

"Ah-fuck, yes, there!" He smirked quietly and drew his fingers out, an obscene string of egg white trailing from his fingers to his ass. Slathering the sticky liquid all over his cock, he gripped America's hips and slowly thrust in.

"Ffff-that fucking hurts!"

"Shh, just relax." Finally fully inside America, he gave the younger nation a moment.

"O-okay, you can move-"

And without further ado, he did. "Fuck!"

"Ah, dorogoy, relax." He moaned and slammed into him harder. "Ya tebya lyublyu, Fredka." Predictably enough, America's face lit up n even brighter shade of red that it already was stained. "L-love-ah!-you to-oo, Vanya," he managed to choke out between gasps. "Ahh, fuck, there!"

He smirked and thrust into him again, skin slapping against skin in an unidentifiable rhythm. "Ffff-" He cut off the inevitable curse with his mouth as they came, panting and moaning on what was once a clean countertop.

He slid out, helping a shaky American hop down with a wince and a grimace that was quickly replaced by a mask of shock.

"Ohh, _fuck_, you used the egg whites!"

He chuckled unabashedly. "That would mean another thirty minutes wait, da?" He quickly dodged the halfhearted punch from his lover and laughed. "Is that a yes?"

* * *

Yeah it sucked and yeah it was short and yeah I probably could have done better...but I have -5 exp points so I will use that as my disclaimer! *waves shiny shield around* Haha, can't touch me now! *you totally can, but it's too much fun to watch her dance around like a fool*


	13. 13

Aha, posting this late? Or rather, because it's still the fourth, early? Why yes I am! Hence the suckish line divider. I'm on my iPod.

This is Gakuen, but they're still countries and all, uh, yeah.

And. Um. There is...a fire breathing dragon in this. I'm a fail. And I like torturing Al. :P ...and Mattie, because he always gets involved somehow. He and his silky French hair.

.

.

.

Gripping the edge of the bed, Ivan tried to desperately remember where he was.

He thought back to when they had woken up. Arm draped around Alfred's waist and face buried in his ash blond hair, he had groaned and blinked sleepily at the alarm clock beeping stridently on the nightstand. He had leaned over his supine form and shut it off before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and shaking his lover's shoulder while looking for his uniform and attempting to put his clothes on with his eyes half closed.

Alfred had yawned and sat up, still looking like he was half asleep. He stood shakily, wincing ever so slightly before crossing the room to give Ivan a rather painfully tight hug.

"Mh...we seriously have classes this early?" Yawning again, this time into his shoulder, he had loosened his grip and sighed. Ivan had rolled his eyes. "You were the one who wanted to take astronomy and then have principles of engineering the first thing in the morning."

"I could deal with that, but I kinda stay up all night anyway. You would know."

"Vy voshititelno glupo inogda, no ya vse yeshche lyublyu tebya."

Frowning, he had said, "I didn't catch all of those words, but I heard you and stupid."

"You missed adorable. And that I love you."

He had blushed and busied himself with buttoning his shirt, pulling on a blazer, and looking for his bomber jacket. He had smiled at his adorable antics and started to tuck his scarf neatly around his neck, watching him walk back over.

America had shyly taken his larger hands in his. "Love you too." He had pressed even shyer lips to his, drawing back and smiling innocently at him.

Wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him closer, he had cradled his head in his other hand and kissed him again, tongue worming its way into his mouth and exploring it thoroughly. America had moaned softly in response, tongue fighting back and delving into his mouth, twisting and lunging in a fast dance.

Somehow, America had managed to maneuver them back to the bed, pushing him down to sit as he writhed on his lap. He had ground down slowly, and Russia let out a low groan as he rubbed his growing arousal.

America had given him a breathless smile. "Feeling a lot more awake now, I think." Sliding off his lap, he had kneeled in front of him and pulled his pants and boxers down to reveal his erection. He had given it a long lick before winking at him and taking his length into his mouth.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he had gripped the bed and tried to stifle a moan.

Ah. So that was what had happened.

"Let me hear you," America mumbled. Around his cock, of course, it sounded more like "L'mhe eer-yhe," shooting vibrations up his spine and making him cry out. "A-Alfred..."

The North American nation smirked around him and flicked his tongue around the head, grazing his teeth over it ever so slightly, his hand just barely skimming the surface of his skin with the tips of his fingers and sending shivers through him. He thought he heard someone outside the door, but honestly his lust-fogged brain had no room to think of anything but the sinfully skilled mouth on him. The heat pooling and twisting inside him burned and he fought the urge to thrust his hips forward. "A-aah-" He felt so close-

He came with a loud moan, suddenly jerking forward when he saw the door open and America's brother stick his head in. "Fuck-"

America looked up, choking and spluttering on his cock, thick white liquid starting to come out of his nose. The sight was almost comical. "Mne ochen zhal, lyubov!" He managed to sputter out. America swallowed, coughing and wiping his nose as he glared at his brother. "Mattie, do you mind?"

The Canadian was not in a much better state. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I was just gonna say that breakfast was ready and to see if you were still in bed because you didn't come down and you usually do by now and-"

He wore an expression of pure condescension and annoyance. "Yeah, well, there's an easy way to tell whether you should come in. If you hear people fucking-"

"Just shut up, Al!" Canada shook his head, waves of silky French hair waving back and forth. "N-never mind." He backed into the hallway and shut the door quietly.

"Well, that ended well." The sarcasm was evident.

He changed the subject. "You know we still have class in ten minutes, right?"

The look on his face was priceless. "...fuck."


	14. 14

So I'm sorry but this is all I could find. I'm seriously stumped on anything else to write and...eh...so you get more cut-off-ness! (Finally, ehe.)

This is what I think of when I think of America eating the ice cream in that one WWII scene...and Russia's reaction. So much fun to write you don't even know...haha...

* * *

Russia sat by America's bedside, sighing irritatedly. Why they had elected him to watch the naïve idiot he'd never know.

Said idiot with a broken leg was propped up by a few pillows, waiting out the time it'd take for the bone to heal. Russia crossed his fingers and watched the clock on the wall. Just a few more hours and he would probably be able to walk again! They wouldn't come soon enough.

America watched his caretaker intently, studying his blank features. Purple eyes were trained on the clock, and a ripple of indignation ran through him. He was not that boring or annoying! Returning his attention to the ice cream in his hands, he carved out a little spoonful and began to suck on it.

Oh, sweet vanilla, tried and true, how he had missed its sugary taste and creamy coldness! He let out a content sigh and licked the spoon clean, only to dig into the carton with enthusiasm. Tongue flicking out to catch every drop of ice cream, he managed to not feel the purple eyes now trained on him.

Idiot. He was transfixed and at once disgusted with himself. There was nothing attractive in how he licked the metal clean, or how his cheeks were still flushed from the bruises that marred his skin, and it definitely wasn't the sweet sounds coming from that sinfully innocent mouth that he couldn't tear his eyes from. Of course not. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

A dribble of the white liquid trailed down his chin and America paused in his mastication of the frozen treat. Raising a finger to wipe it away, he was beaten by a warm, wet tongue suddenly on his face. "What the hell, man?" He glared at the Russian in indignation. "You don't go around licking other people's faces!"

Said Slavic nation ignored his protests and placed the ice cream aside. "Comrade, I was merely cleaning your mouth." A strange grin came onto his face. "If I am not allowed to lick your face, what may I do?" Leaning over the bed, he placed a chaste kiss on the stunned younger nation's lips.

"...you're definitely allowed to kiss me." Craning his neck, America kissed him again, and the taller Russian took this opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth. The taste of vanilla ice cream was still present in his mouth, sweet and light on his tongue. Moaning quietly, he let America pull him closer.

Already half-kneeling on the bed, he leaned forward and swung one leg over him so he was almost straddling him. He ran a hand through America's hair and tugged gently on his cowlick, to which he responded violently, jerking him forward, knocking him off-balance and onto him.

A nasty crack echoed through the room, and Russia looked in dismay to see America's leg once again lying limply on the bed. His cheerful demeanor was surprising, so he said as much.

"Ah, well, if I get a few more hours stuck here I guess you'll have to watch me..."

"...I think I might have to break a few more of your bones."

"Fine by me."

* * *

Ahaha, I'm a fail! 8) So...I await your reviews scolding me for my failness! Internet cake (it's a lie) for reviewers, and bits of soul for Shadow-chan x)


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